


The Guts are the Best Part

by sadistically_sweet



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Domestic Fluff, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Fluff, Happy Molly Hooper, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Feels, Non-Sexual Age Play, Slice of Life, halloween fic, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadistically_sweet/pseuds/sadistically_sweet
Summary: The little ones enjoy another holiday tradition.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 58





	The Guts are the Best Part

“Back up juuuuuust a smidge, monkey…” Greg used his elbow to gently nudge Jawn and get a few blessed inches between him and the very large butcher knife he was wielding; “It’s a Jack O'Lantern, not a Jawn O'lantern.”

“Aw, bu’d, um, bu’d I wan’ see wha’d you are  _ do’eeeen! _ ” Jawn whinged as he tried (and failed) to duck under Gregs’ arm and get back to his spot at the counter. 

“You can see fine from there, and...hey, that means you too, Stinkerbell!” 

Molly had been quick to pop up in Jawns’ newly-vacated spot while Greg was busy shooing him off, and now quickly dipped her head and flashed Greg a sweet, innocent smile. “I wa’ss jus’ looook’een,” she said, batting her eyelashes. 

Greg snorted; “That,” he said, pointing at her, “does not work on me. Can you believe that?” He looked to Mycroft, who was sat at the other end of the counter with Sherlock perched on his lap, playing with him. “Can you believe they still think that works on me??”

Mycroft looked up, smiling faintly; “No, dear...a big, firm man such as yourself? Can’t believe it for a second!” he replied, the humour in his making all three little ones giggle. 

“Right?! The cheek!” Greg reached down and swatted a padded bum that had crept it’s way back into the ‘much-too-close’ zone, eliciting a short yelp. “If you both can’t listen and let Greg cut the top off, then you’re both gonna go down for a nap and we’ll let the baby scoop the guts out all by himself; in’nit that right, Myc??” he fussed. 

Jawn and Molly gasped and looked to Mycroft, horrified at the thought.

Mycroft nodded solemnly; “It’s true,” he said, sounding deadly serious even as he bounced a nappied little darling on his knee. “Little ears that don’t listen go to baby jail.”

Of course, this meant that there was a chorus of distraught protests-

“NO! No no no no no NO!”

“Nooo, no’d jay’ul!”

“I jus’ wann’ed’ah see!”

“P’ease no, My’coff?! P’ease p’ease  _ p’eeeeaaaaasssssse?!?!? _ ”

-until Sherlock screeched, just to not be left out of all the fun, and Mycroft held his finger to his lips...the signal that meant they had about three seconds to hush until bums were in the line of fire. 

Both Littles’ mouths snapped shut into matching pouts. They knew better than to push their luck with the “Shush Monster”. 

Behind them, Greg smirked as he worked the knife around the top of the pumpkin. He had to admit, he loved it when his boyfriend put his foot down. With the kids, anyway. 

“There,” he said calmly, and moved his finger. “Now, if you can both listen to what Gregory says, then we’ll have no more problem and everyone can have their turn helping with the pumpkin...but if he has to tell anyone off just one more time,” Mycroft held his finger back up to illustrate; “then it’s time for a bath and then bed, no more chances. Understood?”

Jawn frowned and crossed his arms over his puffed-out chest, but Molly nodded. “Yes’sir,” she said, her bottom lip poking out in a terribly sweet pout. 

“Good girl. Jawn?” Mycroft asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Jawn only looked even more cross. 

“Jawn…”

Sherlock chewed on his fingers as he looked between his brother and his boyfriend; “Ja-ja?” he asked, nervously. 

Jawn continued to frown at him for another moment...and then heaved a much put-upon sigh. “Fiiiiiiiiiiiine,” he said, letting his arms flop as his shoulders sagged under the overwhelming unfairness of it all. 

“A wise decision. Now both of you go and use your listening ears while Greg-”

“Top’s off!” Greg called out cheerfully and held the stem up like it was some sort of gruesome trophy, with its pale orange guts and seeds hanging off in slimy clumps. 

“LE’MME SEE!” Jawn crowed, and darted back to the counter with Molly hot on his heels. “ME TOO!” she shouted.

Sherlock also threw in his; “EEEEEE!” he cried as he tried to wriggle off of Mycrofts’ lap, determined not to be the odd one out...but quickly devolved into another shriek when he realized his brother wasn’t letting go. “MY-MY-MY, NO-NO-NO!” he fussed as Mycroft laughed over all the noise, and finally let Sherlock slither free. 

“Go on, then!” he cackled, swatting Sherlocks’ nappied bum with a hollow ‘ _ whumph _ ’ as he hurried to join Jawn and Molly. 

“ ‘ey, ‘ey! Just a minute, hold on!” Greg lifted the heavy pumpkin into his arms, narrowly avoiding the three sets of grabby-hands that would have pulled it from his grasp. “Just wait until we get outside, y’ah little gremlins!”

“Mm, no.” Mycroft stood up and began unbuttoning his cuffs. “It’s too cool out there now; they’d last all of five mintues before they’d beg to come back in.”

“Nuh- **UH** !”

“I would  _ n’ah!.. _ ”

Molly turned and tugged at Gregs’ sleeve. “We can’nah do the pum’gin, G’eg?” she asked sadly. 

Before he could answer, the ‘Shush Monster’ made another appearance;“Everyone,  _ shhhhhh. _ ” 

All mouths went shut and eyes went wide as Mycroft Holmes carefully rolled his sleeves up to his elbows; “...Which is why we’re staying  _ inside _ .”

Molly’s face lit up faster than a flipped switch in a dark room. “We are?! We c’n s’dill car’b a pum’gin?!” she asked, bouncing on her toes. 

Greg, however, was just confused. Mycroft was never the type to just invite mess into his home, and pumpkin carving was, well...just about as messy as mess could get. “We are?” 

Mycroft smiled at him, and before Greg knew it, was taking the pumpkin out of his arms. “We are,” Mycroft said, and gave Greg a quick kiss on the lips before he could argue. “Be a dear and fetch us a bedsheet, would you.”

Greg stood there, slackjawed. Well...he  _ did _ ask nicely. He supposed he could go fetch a sheet, then. 

While Greg left to go do just that, Mycroft carried the pumpkin to the kitchen table (admittedly, it was heavier than it looked...Gregory picked out a beast) and set it down while they waited, and was immediately surrounded by a trio of toddlers.

...Toddlers who were very eager to get started on some autumnal carnage. 

“Sit on your bums, not your knees, please.”

Molly giggled as she plopped her bum into the chair beside him; “You rhymed!” 

“So I did! Jawn, could you be our biggest of helpers and bring us three big spoons?”

Jawn slid right back out of the chair he’d just sat in and made for the kitchen drawers; he loved being the helper! Give him any task, any task at all, and he’d be the best at it! He’d bring them every spoon he could find! But..”Why we need spoons, My’coff??”

“For scooping out pumpkin guts, silly.” Mycroft reached over the table and tugged on his baby brothers’ ear as he leaned over the table, nearly planting his nose in the hole Gregory carved. “Bum. In. Your. Seat,” he said with each tug and, with a whinge, Sherlock obeyed. 

“Bu’d, um, bu’d I wan’ned scoo’b them ou’d wi’f my haaaaan’s,” Molly said, holding her hands in front of Mycrofts’ face and wiggling her fingers. 

“Me too!” Jawn returned to the table with not just three, but nearly all the silver spoons in the cutlery drawer. He clattered them on the table and climbed back into his seat; “I wan’ s’keesh wi’f my fing’urs!” he said, clenching his fist to demonstrate. 

Mycroft was just about to tell him to take all the rest of the spoons back, when he felt a series of gentle pats on his forearm. “My’coff? My’coff? My’coff?”

Mycroft covered Mollys ’hand with his, mainly because she now had his attention (but mostly to stop the patting); “Yes, darling?”

“C’n you ma’ge an’uvver rhyme, p’ease?” 

Mycroft felt himself smiling. “Another rhyme? Goodness, let’s see…” Mycroft paused and made a show of putting his finger on his chin and contemplating. “ ‘Get off your feet, keep you bum in your seat, and we’ll all have a treat for Hall-oh-ween’!” he sang.

Not a very good one, he thought, but all three little ones (bless their hearts), startled him by cheering and hooting for him. Molly covered her mouth with her hands as she laughed until she snorted, while Sherlock chanted “ ‘gain, ‘gain, ‘gain!” over and over while he clapped in his sporadic baby-way. 

“Do an’uvver one, My’coff!” Jawn sat up on his knees and wrapped his arms around Mycrofts’ waist. “An’uvver, p’ease?!? Jus’ one mo’?!”

“Little boy, did you not hear the first one? Bum. On the chair.”

“Nah, I agree with Jawn,” Greg had returned, a folded sheet in his arms and a huge grin on his face. “Let’s hear another one!”

Mycroft gave him a look as he took the sheet from him. “I’m afraid my talents have been exhausted for the night, ladies and gentlemen,” he said to an audience of groans, which he ignored. “Jawn, get your spoons, darling...and you take your pumpkin and move it out of my way, Lord of the Gourds.”

“ _ Ohhhhhh _ , he did it again, did’ja hear that?!?” Greg crowed to the delight of the little ones, even as he did as Mycroft said and lifted the pumpkin from the table. “Lord of the Gourds, that’s me!”

“You forgot ‘utterly obnoxious’,” Mycroft said, though it was said with a playful smirk. Mycroft took the sheet and flapped it in the air to open it up, and let it settle on top of the table. “...There’s only one rule tonight, but it’s a very important one, so I need all little boys and girls present to show me their best listening ears!”

Jawn tossed his handful of silverware back onto the table; “I ha’b mines!” he said, cupping his hands behind his ears, the way Mycroft had taught them when he said to ‘show their listening ears’. 

“Very good! What about Sherlock and Molly?!”

“Me too!” Molly hurried to brush her hair out of the way so Mycroft could see her ears, while Sherlock tugged on his; “Me’oo!!!”

“Good job, all of you!” Mycroft clapped his hands together excitedly. “Now, we’re all going to listen to one rule,” he said as he held up one finger, just as he always did, to show them that he did indeed mean ‘one’. “And then our big, warty friend is at your mercy.”

Greg stood back and watched the proceedings with a smile so wide that it almost made his ears hurt. God...he loved this man. 

“Was’sa roo’l?!” Jawn asked, with the slightest (not) bit of impatience. 

“Anything sticky--and that means hands, guts, seeds, faces, et cetera--stay at the table until they are no longer sticky!”

“Tha’s all?!?”

Mycroft spread his hands out in front of him, gesturing to the great big pumpkin that had been the main focus of the house for days now; “That’s all! Have at it!” he said, stepping well back. 

With a cheer (and honestly, ‘cheer’ doesn’t even begin to describe the sound that came from all three Littles) that rattled the rooftops throughout the neighborhood, Sherlock, Jawn, and Molly finally descended upon their soon-to-be Jack o'Lantern with a relish that bordered on ‘concerning’, with Molly being the first one to get elbow-deep in sticky guts.

Greg sidled up next to Mycroft while the other man was watching the rampage, and put his arm around his waist. “You’re in a good mood tonight,” he said, propping his chin on Mycrofts’ shoulder. 

Mycroft smiled, his gaze still on the little ones. “Am I?”

“Mm-hmmm. Lettin’ ‘em play with this gunk inside?? Thought you’d lost your mind.”

Mycroft chuckled and laid his hand over Gregs’. “What can I say...everything in here is either tile or laminate. Floors can be mopped, sheets can be washed.”

“...Who are you, and what have you done with Mycroft.”

Mycroft snorted. “Oh, hush,” he chided, and placed a small kiss on the bridge of Gregs’ nose while the other man giggled. 

“Well, as long as you’re as good of a lay as he is--”

“ _ Gregory! _ ” Mycroft hissed and slapped at Gregs’ thigh, breaking his giggle into a full-on laugh. He started to continue scolding him, but before he could get another word out, Molly cried out for his attention; “MY’COFF! Y’OOK A’D D’IS!” 

“Look at what, darling--” he began, and looked up just in time to see Molly plunge both of her hands into a large pile of guts with a loud, wet squelching sound and then cackle as the seeds splurted up between her fingers. 

Jawn was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his cheeks. He put his hand over his belly, streaking his shirt with pumpkin juice and other little bits of detritus; “I-i’d, i’d  _ far’ded! _ ” he wheezed. 

“Me’oo, me’oo!” Sherlock stretched across the table, hands out and begging Molly for some of her guts. “Pea’sh, pea’sh, pea’sh!”

Without a moments’ hesitation, Molly scooped her pile up and plopped it into Sherlocks’ waiting hands. “Here’go!” she said, and then tipped the pumpkin over on its side for easier evisceration--er’,  _ excavation _ . 

“It was a good idea, invitin’ her over,” Greg said,coming up and hugging him from behind. Now that Mycroft had been distracted, he felt that it was relatively safe being within his boyfriends’ reach again. “The boys always have a good time.”

“Of course they do, it’s Molly,” Mycroft replied. He rested his hands on top of Gregs’ and leaned back into him; “She gets terribly lonely even under the best of circumstances, I can’t imagine how she’s felt all these months cooped up...well, yes I can.”

“Aw.” Greg stood on his tiptoes and kissed the spot right behind Mycrofts’ ear. “Y’er gettin’ soft...I love it.”

A wry smile appeared on Mycrofts’ lips. “Tell anyone, and I’ll have to have you killed.”

“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, a real peach, you are.”

The two of them stood there in their embrace, listening to their little trio jabbering to each other about what they should carve on their pumpkin now that the excitement was starting to die down. It seems that while Molly wanted ‘somefin’ sca’wy’, Jawn had his heart set on a Transformer. “...Do you know how to carve a Transformer?” he whispered to Greg. 

“Mm, I can wing it,” Greg hummed. “Might be kinda wonky, though. Maybe I can get away with calling it a scary Transformer.”

There was a quiet noise as Mycroft breathed a laugh through his nose. It was several minutes before he spoke again, and faint enough that Greg almost didn’t hear him at first. “...She’s staying the night, you know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’m not sending the child home alone while she’s Little and sticky, Gregory.”

Greg smiled. This. This was why he loved this man. Moments like these, where he let his guard down, where he was... _ warm _ . 

Made Greg go all gushy inside, it did. 

“S’good idea,” he said, nuzzling against the back of Mycrofts’ neck and breathing in the faint smell of his aftershave from this morning. “They’ll be excited.”

He felt Mycrofts’ shoulders relax, and then lay his head back against his shoulder. “Good.”

“We’ll make a night of it. Pop some popcorn and build a fort in the sitting room, make like we’re camping out.”

“That’s adorable,” Mycroft sighed, sounding content. “...But you’re vacuuming all the popcorn bits in the morning.”

Greg chuckled; “ _ There’s _ the Mycroft I know and love,” he said...and pinched Mycroft on the bum, then laughed at the sharp yelp that erupted from the other man. 

“ **_Gregory!_ ** ”

  
  
  
  
  


***


End file.
